


Hipbones and Scrawling Ink

by newt_scamander



Category: Les Miserables, Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Death, M/M, Self Harm, soulmate tattoo au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-05 04:23:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1805173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newt_scamander/pseuds/newt_scamander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras is through and Grantaire doesn't fault him for that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hipbones and Scrawling Ink

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning for death and self harm.

'We're done.' 

Grantaire read the words over and over, eyes glazed over as he stared at his phone. 

He knew them already, knew the shape and the font and the size. Because it was tattooed across his right hipbone. 

His soulmate tattoo was a particularly tragic one. Not one where his soul mate died, no. One where his soul mate voluntarily left him. He'd known that since he woke up on his 15th birthday. Everyone pitied him but he figured it was just his luck. 

He looked at his phone a bit longer. He took in the format. The childish emojis. The nickname nobody understood, except himself and Enjolras. The excessive amount of blue was embarrassing next to the one gray text bubble. His pleading had been useless. Enjolras knew what he wanted. And it wasn't Grantaire. Not anymore. 

He could hardly blame Enjolras though. He'd hated the whole tattoo concept along with the social construct of a soul mate. He'd vowed to go against the system but somewhere along the line he claimed to have fallen in love with Grantaire. Sure. Who could ever love such a beast? 

Grantaire took a shuddery breath and nodded. He'd seen Enjolras' tattoo. He knew what he had to say. 

He typed in the eight letters, two spaces, one capital letter, no punctuation. Exactly how Enjolras' tattoo looked. 

He started crying then, eyes squinted shut. His phone slipped from his hand and fell, shattering into a million tiny little pieces. He felt it an accurate representation of himself. Falling apart with no means of pulling himself together or hope of pulling himself up. 

'I love you' 

They found him the next morning, the shards of glass from his phone embedded in his hip, his tattoo caked with blood but still visible.


End file.
